


Tougher than they look

by Goldpeaches



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Thorin forgets that little dwarves are tougher than they look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tougher than they look

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "Spring is here" over at [Middleland](http://middleland.livejournal.com/). Team Dwarrows!!!

“Fíli, your coat! Kíli, don’t forget to…!” 

“Yes, mother!”

The front door slams shut before their mother can finish. It’s always the same anyway. It’s always “Those bisquits are for visitors” and “Dwarves aren’t meant to climb trees. If you fall off and break your legs don’t come running to me!” 

Still, Fíli pulls on his coat as he runs with Kíli trying to keep up and lace his boots simultaneously. There is just no time to bother with these things, because today, for the first time in ages, the sun is in the sky. The real sun, not the sorry, pale yellow orb that hung low in the sky for a few hours before the night took over again. No, this is the real deal, bright and yellow and warm on their winter-pale faces.  
Laughing and giggling, the boys run down to the lake, making sure to jump into every puddle on the way.

The water is still icy cold, but neither or them plans to jump in for a swim. Instead, they run along the grassy shore to find the raft uncle Thorin helped them build last summer.

“Ah, no!” Fíli finally finds it, but it is nothing more than a bundle of sticks that fell victim to the harsh storms and the cold spells with snow and ice that lasted for weeks.

“Ah, no,” Kíli echoes and crouches down next to his brother with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “What now?”

Fíli picks up a long stick and tries to reach the remainders of the raft floating barely above water, but he doesn’t quite reach them.  
“We could ask uncle Thorin to help us build a new one,” he suggests. He knows that they are not supposed to bother Thorin, but they just had that much fun last time they made the raft that he can’t see how asking him for help could bother him. 

 

The knock on the door is a welcome excuse for Thorin to get up from the table. He feels like he has been staring at the same pieces of paper for months without getting anywhere closer to a solution. He may not be the king, but he is responsible for his people. The winter is tough, there is little food and even less work and he just doesn’t know how to get everyone through the cold months.

He opens the door and the first thing he sees is too sets of muddy footprints before he land on his two soaking wet, filthy nephews. Their eyes look even larger than usual in their thin faces and it pains Thorin to know that even his beloved boys have to go to bed hungry more often than not.

Fíli pushes Kíli forward slightly and the boy starts babbling about something down at the lake and will Thorin come with them. Thorin barely listens, his thoughts are already back at the table. He _needs_ to come up with a plan. He can’t allow this to continue. He can’t let his kin starve to death.

“Can’t you see that I am trying to work?” He shuts the door quickly, before the feeling of guilt tempts him to make rash decisions. He needs to keep focussed. He turns away from the door and walks back to the table in the centre of the cave-like room.

 

In the evening, there is another small, timid knock on the door and even though Thorin considers not answering this time, he can’t disappoint Fíli and Kíli.

“We brought you these to cheer you up,” Fíli says with his usual sunny smile. They hold out their hands to him, filled with smooth stones, twigs that have just the slightest bits of green on them and flowers. Windflowers, snowdrop, and yellow winter aconite.

“Where did you find these?” Thorin demands, grasping the flowers out of the children’s hands.

“Outside,” Kíli says with a frown. “They’re all over.”

Thorin closes his fingers around the green stems. He needs to feel them to believe that they are real.

“Is it spring?”

The boys giggle at the seemingly stupid question, but they still nod in unison.

Not bothered anymore by their wet and muddy clothes, Thorin picks up Kíli and hoists him onto his shoulders, before scooping Fíli up in his arm. He walks with them to the front door and steps outside. He blinks a few times into the sun and he can feel a smile take over his face.

It’s spring. 

They made it.

He steps into the road, hardly believing his eyes. While he was cooped up in his study with some of the greatest minds in the area, wondering how they could possibly survive the winter, they missed something. Dwarves, even the small ones, are tougher than they look and can endure almost everything, but more imporatntly, they missed the fact that all winters end eventually.

“Gentlemen,” he yells at the dwarves still brooding in his study. “I believe we are done for today."

He sets Fíli back onto his feet.

"Go fetch Mister Dwalin. Tell him I send you. Tell him we have a raft to build."


End file.
